


all of us ( little lionhearts )

by fraud



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4264902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraud/pseuds/fraud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something is more important..." - Meg Cabot</p>
<p>"In the flush of love's light, we dare be brave." - Maya Angelou</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of us ( little lionhearts )

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to Skylark for whipping this into shape ♥

They’re practicing receives to the familiar sound of rubber tread squeaking across the waxed floors-- Kageyama trying his best not to yell at Hinata while Tanaka demands Tsukishima take his blocking efforts more seriously, everything as normal as can be-- when it happens. A familiar feeling crawls up Asahi’s back and sneaks its way between his shoulder blades. It takes him a moment to realize it’s a reaction: not _his_ , but a reaction to something his body recognizes nonetheless.

 

Quiet, too-fast breaths.

 

Soft, apologetic half-words.

 

The distinct sound of someone becoming increasingly upset.

 

By the time Asahi turns to find the source of the noise, the rest of the team has caught on too, either because they can see the scene unfolding in the corner of the gym or because of someone else’s distracted glance in that direction. Kageyama is the last to notice; his annoyed shout at Hinata to _pay attention dumbass_ drowned out by Hinata’s worried yell of, “Ya-chan!!”

 

Kiyoko and Yachi are standing beyond the plastic folding chairs set up for Ukai to observe practice from; the former quietly speaking to a white knuckled and wild eyed blonde attempting to melt into the gym’s woodwork.

 

“I- I’m sorry-“ Yachi gasps out, her breathing hitching in time with the shaking of her shoulders.

 

“It’s okay.” Kiyoko’s quiet assurances are nearly drowned out by the growing murmur of attention turned their way. “Yachi-san, it’s okay.”

 

Hinata bounds over, his concern for Yachi one of the few things important enough to make him forget Kageyama in such close proximity to a volleyball. “Yachi! What’s the matter!”

 

The split-second glance Kiyoko worriedly sends in Asahi’s direction leaves him fifteen and helpless all over again.

 

“N-nothing!” Yachi wheezes as she struggles, and fails, to breathe deep enough. Shaking her head, ineffectively willing the sudden turn of unwanted attention away from her, Yachi attempts a breathless apology. “Please! I-”

 

“Yeah, you don’t look too good.” Tanaka comments, following suit with the rest of the concerned club members and clomping his way over.

 

Asahi can’t tell if the eyes on his back are Suga’s or Nishinoya’s, but he wishes the rest of the team would keep their distance instead of closing in on the poor, hyperventilating first year. None of them are particularly adept at first aid, and having twelve guys crowding around her can’t be helping any. Asahi really wishes Takeda would come back from his staff meeting; even if he can’t help, he’s got the air of aptitude that comes with being a teacher, and an adult.

 

“I can’t- I-“ Yachi’s shaking violently, the clipboard in her hands clattering to the floor as her shaking worsens. Clutching her trembling hands to her chest, Yachi manages a miserable, wheezed, “I can’t- breathe. I’m s- sorry! I-”

 

Mottled pink in the face and trying to hide behind the lone curtain of her hair, Yachi’s knees give out, breathing too fast to manage standing at the same time. As she slides down the wall into a crumpled heap, Asahi knows he should _say_ something. Kiyoko’s trying her best to give Yachi her space, her arm extended toward Hinata in a physical request that he keep his distance. Even if he doesn’t necessarily feel confident he can help, it’s very obvious that certain aspects of this situation are decidedly _not_ helping.

 

“Guys, maybe we shouldn’t crowd her?“ Asahi timidly suggests, but the team’s concern has made them oblivious, their focus entirely on Yachi’s mounting distress. 

 

“Yachi! What’s the matter?”

 

“Do you need some water, Ya-chan?”

 

“Would she feel better if we took her outside?”

 

“Yeah, Yachi, do you need fresh air?”

 

In the discordance of questions and recommendations, Asahi can’t help the way panic creeps up to clog the back of his _own_ throat, as if this kind of thing were catching.

 

“Maybe she needs the toilet!”

 

“Don’t say stupid things, dumbass!”

 

“Yachi-san! Please calm down!”

 

“Is she gonna be okay?”

 

“Ya-chan! Just calm down!” Hinata jumps to the forefront of the cacophony. He peers around Kiyoko, eager, albeit ill equipped, to help. “Oh- I know! When I get worried about stuff I just think about the best feeling in the world. So think about volleyball! Or- no, that’s not your favorite thing in the world. Think about your notes! Think about how organized all your notes are and your drawings and how you use those little arrow sticky tabs—those are so cool! I still have your math notes! I could go get them for you to look at—“

 

Asahi’s never felt the urge to yell at Hinata before, but it’s building in him now. He’s way too close to Yachi, way too loud, and his complicated suggestions and boisterous voice are putting _Asahi_ on edge. The part of him that knows how difficult it is to be surrounded by people who don’t know what it feels like to lose all sense of control over something that should be simple wants to grab Hinata’s jersey and physically pull him away from her. In an instant of panic, Asahi realizes he’s going to yell at Hinata if he doesn’t get out of Yachi’s space, and that’s not going to help the situation at all.

 

Instinctively, Asahi looks to Daichi.

 

Whatever Daichi sees on Asahi’s face has him sobering, his shoulders straightening. Asahi will never be able to properly express how grateful he is that, despite their numerous misunderstandings over the years, they’ve come to understand each other like this when it matters the most.

 

“Outside. Everyone.” Daichi barks, with a decisive nod of his head toward the double doors. “We’re running laps.”

 

If Daichi used that tone under normal circumstances, half the team would already be fighting to get out of the gym; Kageyama and Hinata shoving at each other to be the first out, and Tanaka tossing Nishinoya over their kouhai to give him a head start. Despite the pull of Daichi’s order, no one makes a move to leave.

 

Yamaguchi looks hesitantly between Tsukishima and the door. Tsukishima continues to look visibly uncomfortable, like he would prefer to leave but knows he shouldn’t. Ennoshita has Tanaka and Nishinoya by the shoulders, trying to pull them away from the semi-circle that’s unfortunately formed around Yachi. Kageyama, who has looked vaguely uncomfortable since the whole scene started, hesitantly looks at the door, caught in the snare of wanting to leave this situation to his senpai, and the discomfort of knowing he’ll be of no use if he stays.

 

“What!” Hinata yelps, well meaning and loyal to a fault. Shooting Daichi an accusatory look, Hinata points to the hyperventilating ball of his friend, like perhaps Daichi’s gone blind. “We can’t just leave Yachi! She needs-“

 

“Hinata-“ Daichi barks, and there’s a reprimand in the way Daichi says his name, like there might be something short and harsh that’s meant to follow, but Suga’s hand on Daichi’s shoulder stops him short.

 

“Now, Hinata,” Suga steps up and loops his arm around Hinata’s shoulders, forcefully steering him out of the gym. “The best way we can help Yachi is to listen to Daichi—and Daichi said we have laps to do.”

 

“But!” Hinata struggles against Suga’s hold, but Suga’s got almost three years worth of experience in forcing a much larger boy to go and do what he wants—Hinata doesn’t stand a chance.

 

Catching on, Kageyama shoots one last worried look at Yachi before he stomps over to where Suga is politely leading a struggling Hinata out of the gym. His challenge is stilted, but helpful. “If you don’t hurry up, I’m going to finish my laps before you, dumbass.”

 

Thankfully the rest of the team follows suit, filing out of the gym with varying degrees of either relief or worry. In the shared, hesitant gratefulness to be away from the situation, no one asks why Asahi stays behind with Kiyoko. Daichi is the last to leave the gym, and even though he’s quiet, Asahi can hear him tell Kiyoko, “I’ll be close. Yell if you need anything.”

 

Daichi leaves the door open, and Asahi’s sure he could hear the sound of the team starting to run laps if he really tried—but Yachi’s breathing is too loud, too fast, and Asahi knows the embarrassment, the _defeat_ , of struggling with something that should be maddeningly simple.

 

Kneeling down doesn’t help much when Yachi’s sitting and Asahi is so much bigger than her to begin with, but it’s the best he can do. At the very least, it keeps him from towering over her. He’s close enough to touch her shoulder, or rub her back if he felt that would help any, but he doesn’t know Yachi that well, so he keeps his hands to himself.

 

“Yachi,” Asahi starts, maybe a little too quietly. He tries for a little more mettle, scrounging up the paltry authority of understanding. “I need you to listen to me. Focus on what I’m saying.”

 

Shaking all over and lightheaded from gasping in too-short breaths, Yachi nods; the frantic, seizing agreeableness that only comes from being completely helpless.

 

“Breathe in,” Asahi pauses, waiting to see if Yachi will attempt to listen to him. “And out.”

 

Unable to meet Asahi’s eyes, but aware enough to blink back tears, Yachi makes an attempt to do as she’s been told, her breath catching in terrified hitches.

 

“Slowly.” Asahi says, keeping his directions simple. “Breathe with me. In… and out…”

 

Yachi pulls in several breaths for every single breath Asahi demonstrates, but they’ve got a certain lucidity to them. An attempt at control. Even though her breathing is nowhere near where it should be, and doesn’t match what Asahi’s asked of her, Asahi is quick to praise her. “Good. Again.”

 

Asahi keeps his voice quiet enough that Yachi has to concentrate to hear what he’s saying. When she manages to meet Asahi’s eyes, her hands still trembling at her chest like it might cave in from the pressure, Asahi smiles encouragingly.

 

“See? You can do this. Now lift your arms up, like this,” Asahi demonstrates, lifting his arms above his head in a controlled parody of a sitting jumping jack. He pulls in a slow, deliberately deep inhale for Yachi to follow, his chest expanding as he fills his lungs. She follows suit, and it isn’t graceful but Asahi knows it isn’t _easy_ , either. Her arms move in a jerky, lurching attempt at mimicking Asahi’s movement as she sucks in breaths faster than Asahi would like—but slightly deeper now.

 

Asahi’s smile is genuine when he quietly congratulates her. “Good job.”

 

He lowers his arms, and Yachi follows suit. She’s still trembling, but she has enough control over her limbs to decide where they go, which Asahi knows can feel like a huge accomplishment in the short term. Or a slap in the face, if she’s allowed to dwell on how painfully simple the task is.

 

So, Asahi doesn’t let her dwell.

 

“Again,” Asahi prompts, pulling his arms up over his head, reminding Yachi to breathe in and out by example.

 

After six more successful arm raises, Yachi’s no longer wheezing on every inhale. Her breathing has started to calm, but her gulps have turned wet with the threat of tears and she’s trembling. In that moment, Asahi wishes he knew Yachi better. Wishes he’d taken the time to get to know this amazingly talented first year who stood so bravely by Kiyoko’s side. This young girl with a familiar nervousness to her, who knew next to nothing about the team she was set to inherit, but consistently went above and beyond any expectations any of them could have had of her.

 

“You can do this.” Asahi assures her, holding his hands out between them. With his palms down and his fingers splayed so they can see the parquet in the space between each digit, Asahi says, “Count to ten with me.”

 

Asahi curls his pinky finger in on his first quiet count of _one_ , which Yachi misses entirely. Yachi’s mouth forms the word _two_ as Asahi says it, curling in the next finger, but her voice doesn’t quite make it out of her throat. As Asahi curls a third finger into his palm, Yachi’s quiet, exhaled _three_ , falls into the space between them, and Asahi is so proud of her, he can’t keep himself from breaking their count.

 

“Good job. C’mon, we’re going to ten.”

 

They count to ten, Asahi curling his fingers into his palms and Yachi’s voice growing steadier, her breathing gradually evening out. When Asahi curls his final finger into his palm, he’s not quite sure what to do—if Yachi’s feeling better, or needs him to stay, so he extends his fingers and lets her start the count again.

 

At the end of the second set, Yachi sighs, slumping back against the wall. She looks exhausted, but her breathing is back under control and she looks a little less like she’s going to cry.

 

Asahi pulls his hands back into his lap, resting his curled fingers in the basin of his palm, not sure what to say—or if he should say anything at all. He’s spared blurting out some awkward, half-thought out comment when a hand settles on his shoulder, prompting him to look up.

 

Kiyoko’s touch is light and familiar, the squeeze of his shoulder a question in a language Asahi has grown inarticulate in. Asahi nods, an assurance that he’s okay and that no thanks are necessary. He scoots over to give Kiyoko enough room to sit next to Yachi. They don’t touch, even though they’re close enough for Kiyoko to slide her hand into Yachi’s, and something about that seems oddly familiar too.

 

“I’m-“ Yachi starts, hesitantly breaking the quiet of the gym. “Sorry, Azumane-san.”

 

“What-“ Asahi startles, realizing he’s staring at the two of them, trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle he’s maybe not supposed to be solving just yet. “No! Please,” Asahi shakes his head, his bun bobbing lightly with force of the action. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

 

The blotchiness has started to fade from Yachi’s face now that she’s breathing properly, but her eyes are still rimmed with red from exertion and embarrassment.

 

“I used to get really worked up as a first year.” Asahi explains, ignoring the fact that even now, as a third year, there are still times he gets easily worked up. “The team was a lot less… cohesive, at the time, and even though Daichi was my friend, he- uh. He used to make me really nervous.” Asahi says, feeling a little like he’s rambling. He spares a questioning glance to the side. “Kiyoko actually taught me the arm technique.”

 

Tucking her dark hair behind her ear, Kiyoko quietly admits, “I know you get nervous around other people, but you just…” A tinge of pink touches just below Kiyoko’s glasses, and she glances contritely at Yachi. “Looked so cute. I’m sorry.”

 

Blushing a bright red of her own, Yachi shakes her head frantically, her palms whirring in front of her as if she could wave away Kiyoko’s apology. “No! No, please don’t be sorry. It wasn’t you, it was me! My thoughts- I just got carried away again.”

 

Suddenly, the puzzle pieces start to fit together, and Asahi feels less weird for noticing the distance between the club’s manager and her assistant.

 

“I’m very grateful to you,” Yachi turns and ducks her head in a bow so polite it embarrasses Asahi. “And to you to, Azumane-san!”

 

“Really, it’s okay.” Asahi assures, awkwardly, ducking his head in return. The surprise of his newfound knowledge has him blurting out, “I know what it’s like.”

 

Asahi freezes, hoping the double meaning of his accidental admission will go unnoticed. Yachi doesn’t seem to question his words until Kiyoko covers her mouth, laughing quietly at Asahi’s ability to so effortlessly put his foot in his own mouth. With a confused glance between the two third years, Yachi is left clueless, waiting to be filled in but too polite to ask.

 

“I mean, that’s-“ Asahi looks to Kiyoko, caught between the truth and not knowing what Kiyoko’s shared with Yachi.

 

Kiyoko saves him the trouble of awkwardly circumnavigating the topic. Her answer is plain: “Asahi and I dated, for a little while.”

 

It takes a moment for that information to fully permeate. When it does, Yachi’s eyes widen, her gaze darting between her senpai.

 

“What!” Yachi yelps.

 

Asahi can feel his ears burning.

 

“We were first years!” Asahi explains, like he’s been found out on some big secret when it was really anything but. They never made a big deal of it when they first got together, and they parted amiably, their time special because of the tender memories they made together.

 

“Don’t worry,” Kiyoko assures with her usual calm. “He’s dating Daichi now.”

 

Asahi’s scandalized “Kiyoko!” tangles with Yachi’s startled yelp of “What!”

 

“Oh, yes. Sorry,” Kiyoko apologizes, tucking her hair more securely behind her ear. “Daichi _and_ Sugawara.”

 

“What?!” Yachi’s glances between her senpai are rapid-fire and uncertain, like she’s waiting for one of them to laugh it off and explain.

 

“I’ve got to go!” Asahi jumps up, nearly tripping over the tangle of his legs in his haste to excuse himself.

 

Asahi’s out of the gym and on the track, falling into place behind Suga and Daichi, before it occurs to him that he could have easily skipped out on laps entirely. He’s a little wobbly from talking Yachi down, and from inadvertently outing his boyfriends, but Asahi pushes through his unsteadiness. Of the three of them, Suga’s keeping an easy 20 foot lead, per usual, and Daichi’s slightly breathless from yelling at Tanaka and Nishinoya to _pace themselves_ while trying to pace himself, and it’s all so... normal. It’s all worked out so well for them, that Asahi knows he wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have feelings about any of these kids, i'm @barebarus on twitter and i'd love to cry with u


End file.
